


I am one with everything

by labecc



Series: bonnefoy'braginsky family series [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adopted by, Adoption, Age regression if you squint, Angst, Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutting, Familial Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human AU, Insecurity, M/M, Self Harm, Self Insert, Self-Harm, Self-Insert, Snuggling, familial age regression, not romantic age regression tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labecc/pseuds/labecc
Summary: Francis and Ivan take care of their daughter after she self harms.set on October 27, 2015 // age 13





	I am one with everything

**Author's Note:**

> SELF HARM TRIGGER WARNING

I stood at my parent’s bedside; with the room drenched in darkness, I struggled to focus my eyes. I laid a hand on my sleeping father’s shoulder and shook him lightly in an attempt to wake him.

“Papa?” I whispered; I stood for a minute, waiting for him to gain consciousness. Francis hummed tiredly as he opened his eyes; he took a moment to rub them and push his hair back. He sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I need help,” I whispered. Francis pulled the bedcovers back and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you need help with?” He questioned. I looked down as I slowly lifted my forearms, holding them up to show him the new scars. He gasped quietly as his face knotted in concern. He gazed at my forearms and carefully picked up one of my hands at the bottom of the palm, near my wrist. The cuts weren't very visible in the dark but it was still possible to see the little beads of blood. I could feel tears starting to form in my eyes, and as silently as I could, I let them fall. I whined faintly as they traveled down my face in warm streams.

“Oh darling, don't cry,” Francis said caringly, “It is okay,” he pushed some of my hair away from my face, and wiped up a stream of tears with his thumb. “Let's clean you up, okay?”

I nodded in agreement of the idea. Francis guided me out of his and Ivan’s room and led me across the hallway to the bathroom.

I stood next to the counter and tried to clean up my tears as Francis searched through the closet for medical supplies. He pulled out a small bin from one of the closet shelves and set it down on the counter. Once he opened it, he lifted out a washcloth.

I always recognized the bin immediately, it gave such a comforting feeling whenever I happened to see it, although the situations in which I'd see it we're never good. It was a plain clear bin with a clear top, and it was adorned with a great variety of carefully painted pictures. Francis, Ivan and I had painted it in the middle of last summer, just before school started; the memory is still clear as glass. We were going to group therapy at the time, which required the completion of one homework assignment each week; the assignments were to use the skills we learned in therapy. At that particular time we were learning about emotion regulation, and our assignment was to do some kind of fun activity together. The night before the assignment was due, there was a violent storm that kept us from doing any kind of activity outside, so Ivan found a way to compromise and dug the bin out of our storage closet. He proposed that we paint it and use it to store all of the medical supplies we’d need to help me if I happened to relapse. The first thing I always remember when I see the bin now is how ecstatic Francis was about the idea; he was always a dramatic man, but there was something different about that moment. His face seemed to radiate the entire time we decorated the box, and it took me quite a while to finally understand why.

Francis ran the washcloth under warm water, wrung it out, and gently took my hand. He carefully rested the damp cloth against my skin, and started dabbing away the blood. Once both of my arms were clean, he put the cloth to the side and picked up a tube of ointment. He took the cap off swiftly and applied a small layer of it to my damaged skin. He took out two large bandaids next and one by one he pulled apart the wrapping, then peeled off the backing and tenderly placed them over my injuries.

For the first time since I woke him up, I looked into his blue eyes; they glistened painfully, and they seemed darker than usual. I almost didn't notice the tears returning to my eyes; I pulled them shut as Francis wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I wound my arms tightly around his waist in return and clutched onto the fabric of his shirt, crying into his chest.

“Shh, it's alright; you're safe.” Francis whispered, bringing one of his hands up to pet my hair. He rocked me from side to side in his arms and kissed the top of my head; he was so assured in the way he held me, never once was there a breach in his affection.

He barely adjusted when the door opened next to him.

“Is everything okay?” Ivan asked sleepily, standing in the doorframe. Francis maintained his comforting hold on me, only turning his head slightly to look at Ivan.

“She relapsed.” Francis stated. Ivan’s face adjusted softly in pain; I turned my head from Francis’ chest and found him giving me a look of both sadness and empathy. He stepped forward and rested a hand on my back, and started rubbing his thumb soothingly against my clothed skin. I closed my eyes and attempted to steady my breathing, all while continuously playing with Francis’ shirt.

A few minutes passed before I nuzzled into Francis’ chest; afterwards, I tilted my head up to look at him, then look at Ivan.

“Do you want to talk now?” Francis questioned.

“Yeah,” I muttered; I sighed and rested my head against him. He started softly petting my hair again, giving me the comfort to speak. “I've just… been feeling really lonely,” I explained.

“Is there a certain reason why?” Ivan asked.

“Mm… I guess it's that I'm so invalid compared to everyone else,” I spoke quietly, “like, there are people at school who everyone always listens to, but…” I paused, “no one ever really listens to me,” I quickly closed my eyes and delved back into Francis’ chest, his arms pulling me in. My throat felt sour as I stood on the verge of tears; every one of my muscles was trying to keep them from falling.

Despite the effort, I gave in and choked as I began to cry. Francis resumed petting my hair and Ivan continued to rub my back.

“I know it hurts,” Francis consoled, “but you are going to be okay.” My face emerged from his chest and I looked up at him.

“You're our strong baby girl,” my gaze shifted to Ivan as he spoke. His slight smile was comforting, and his violet eyes glistened supportively. “It’s scary being different, but it’s only made you stronger,” he declared. Francis hummed in agreement.

“We are so proud of you,” he reassured me, “we’ll never leave you alone.”   
I finally let myself smile, and started blushing at their words. I buried my face into Francis’ chest again, my cheeks undoubtedly turning bright red. From behind me, Ivan draped his arms around Francis and I.

The three of us stood for a few moments, holding each other as the atmosphere calmed. My face was still very warm when I nuzzled into Francis. I relaxed against him, closed my eyes, and listened to his heartbeat; I concentrated on it's soothing rhythm. I took long breaths as I rested, and I could feel myself slowly approaching sleep.

“Would you like to sleep with us tonight?” Francis offered, taking note of my dreariness.

“Yeah,” I answered contently, barely opening my sore eyes. Ivan and Francis waited for a moment before pulling away from me and beginning to quickly guide me out of the bathroom. Tired yet cheerfully, I walked across the dark hall and into their bedroom. Francis turned on a lamp that sat on the bedside table as I pulled myself onto the bed and crawled to the middle. I tucked myself under the heavy covers, curling up in their warmth. Francis followed; the blankets shifted as he pulled himself into bed. Ivan joined us a few moments later, laying on the side opposite Francis.

Once the three of us got situated, Francis leaned towards the bedside table to turn off the lamp. Before he pulled the covers over himself, he stretched his arms out to me and tapped my shoulder, beckoning me to come closer. I dragged myself towards him and laid my head on his bicep, then curled my arms up against my chest. Francis laid his arm over my shoulder just as Ivan was moving closer; he kept one arm folded against his chest and positioned his other hand on Francis’ waist, protectively sealing me between them. Francis pulled the covers over us; the blankets were soft and heavy against my skin. I snuggled into Francis’ chest and sighed in exhaustion; he softly kissed my head, providing more relaxation.

“Goodnight,” Ivan said quietly.

“We love you,” Francis added, smiling.

“I love both of you too,” I murmured, on the brink of sleep. I pulled my heavy eyelids closed and finally let all of my muscles relax, allowing all of the tension to diffuse. I directed my attention to Francis’ heart beat again; the loyal rhythm of it felt like home, and just after a minute, I was slipping into a heavy sleep. 


End file.
